


You And Me

by Auggusst



Series: The Soldier And The Scientist [32]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hugs, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Sharing Emotions, Talking, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, discussion of fears, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24920206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auggusst/pseuds/Auggusst
Summary: It takes 9 months for Tony to tell Steve about the vision he had down in Strucker's Lab. It's a lot to talk about.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: The Soldier And The Scientist [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/468745
Comments: 26
Kudos: 121





	You And Me

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write this one for like 2 years lol. And here it is!! Tony finally sharing his vision from AoU. Hope you enjoy!

_‘You could have saved us.’_

_‘Why didn’t you do more?’_

Those two sentences seemed to be playing on repeat in Tony’s brain. They had been, on and off, ever since he’d had his vision in Strucker’s Lab, nine months ago. He couldn’t seem to shake the words, the visuals, couldn’t seem to forget the look in Steve’s eyes in the vision, the disappointment and fear. He couldn’t forget the forms of his teammates, crumpled and bloody and beaten, laying dead before him, the hollow cold and emptiness of space filled with a massive army, all fixated on one target: their vulnerable planet.

Even as he saw Steve in his waking life, felt his touch and heard his voice every day, and took in the content, if not stressed presence of his teammates on a daily basis, it seemed impossible to forget the vision, to forget the warning behind it.

Tony had tried to prevent the inevitable before already. He told himself if he stayed one step ahead, that all of it could be prevented, that they would never have to deal with what was to come. He put his faith in his work all those months ago, thought the Scepter they retrieved was the key to survival, to victory, but his desperate hopes had been turned against him. His good intentions were corrupted by the very object he’d hoped would be his salvation, and now, over half a year later, he was still feeling the effects of it all: the shame, the heartbreak, the guilt.

The fear.

He was terrified. He really, truly was. He worried every day about the future, about what was to come. He worried that he wasn’t doing enough, that he could _never_ do enough, and that no matter how hard he tried, his vision would come to fruition, that he would lose all he held dear, and, more importantly, that the world would suffer at his hands. The weight of responsibility had always been crushing, but now, it just seemed to build and build and build, and sometimes, he wondered how he could even take a breath, how his lungs got any air.

It was hard to sleep.

It was always hard to sleep, but as the days passed, it just seemed to get harder. The world got busier. SI went through a lot of changes. The team expanded and changed shape. The Compound became home. The Tower sat empty. Tony worked. The Avengers handled threats. Steve grew frustrated and Tony grew distant. A lot of the blame lay equally. Steve’s patience wore a little thin with everything on his plate and Tony couldn’t seem to even spell out everything on his, and their responsibilities tugged them every which way and made it hard to meet in the middle. It seemed like there was less room for Steve and Tony and more required for Captain America and Iron Man.

Tony wasn’t a stranger to relationship issues in general, but he felt a new kind of helplessness this time around, and wasn’t sure exactly how to fix it all. They were arguing again, a lot actually, like when they met and couldn’t see eye to eye yet, and although apologies were made more often than not, it was getting harder to let things go, to find a way to stay happy and without stress, with the way things were going.

Tony wanted nothing more than to be honest. He wanted to be able to lay it all out, to write a big huge list of everything that was bothering him, of everything that kept him awake at night and made his shoulders high and tight during the day, but whenever he finally got the time to sit down with Steve, the words caught in his throat, and he would lose himself in the physical, focus on the brief sense of respite being in Steve’s arms afforded, in the soothing sound of his own name in hushed tones passing Steve’s lips.

It was getting harder to keep it under wraps, though.

Out of the thousands of things that plagued Tony’s thoughts, the vision all those months ago was certainly near the top of the list. He thought about it, after every mission, every briefing, every time he created something new. He thought about it anytime someone got so much as a scratch on them, every time someone cried out over the comms.

Thor hadn’t returned. He had left to go find something, or someone, who Tony assumed would be the grand architect of their downfall, and all this time without word from the God of Thunder, or from Bruce, who still couldn’t be found no matter how many times Tony adjusted his search algorithm, just made Tony more paranoid, more afraid.

Sometimes, even Steve’s presence couldn’t keep the nightmares at bay, couldn’t keep him from grinding his teeth hard enough to hurt, tossing and turning and sometimes waking up with a jolt, a memory or a conglomeration of experiences, of fears, being presented to him vividly, injected in his veins like a poison, impossible to escape. Sometimes, Tony forwent sleep at all, spent the entire night awake, laying in bed, thinking and wondering and fearing and planning, hoping the answer to all of their problems would present itself, dealing with the disappointment of knowing it never would. He made up for the lost sleep with caffeine. If Steve noticed, he didn’t say anything about it. Not anymore.

But Steve wasn’t doing that great either, obviously. His gorgeous smile was becoming rarer and rarer, and his warm laughter became an oasis in the desert, precious and scarce. He spent a lot of time in the gym, worked harder during training, drilled the others more than sometimes necessary. Steve was tense, and a little irritable, and sometimes the only thing that could bring him back down was Tony’s presence, his soft kisses and deft hands brushing through his hair in the rare moments they had time to themselves, in the moments the tension could unwind a little.

Tony wanted it to unwind entirely, and knew the best way to kickstart that process would be to simply admit everything, to lay it all out, no matter how hard it seemed. He struggled with it for a long time. He knew Steve could sense it, could sense him trying to say something, but even Steve couldn’t find the way to bring it to the surface. Hell, he had his own secrets, his own ghosts to contend with, one in particular that needed addressing, but he couldn’t seem to find the time, and knew that Tony wasn’t in the right place to handle it right now. It would simply have to wait.

The brunet finally plucked up the courage after a breakdown in his lab. He’d been trying for a few days now to get his latest defense protocol to work, but there was something in the coding that just wasn’t clicking right, and even FRIDAY couldn’t offer any help. The possibility of failure, of never figuring out the key to getting this newest endeavor to work, hit Tony astronomically quickly, and sent him spiraling into a panic attack so fast he got lightheaded. He found himself sitting on the floor, knees drawn up tight and head in his hands, trying to breathe between sobs, his chest tight and painful and vision reduced to pin pricks. It was just too much.

He’d been handling everything relatively okay the last week or so, but this newest obstacle, this newest failure, seemed to be the tipping point on the scale, and he had no choice but to empty its contents and try to reach some sort of equilibrium again.

When his crying eased off and his breathing was relatively normal again, he brushed the tears from his face and made his way to the gym, where he knew Steve would be.

Tony didn’t have any words planned. He didn’t know exactly what he would end up saying, or how he’d say it, but he knew he had to try, that he had to find a way to bring it up.

_‘Why didn’t you do more?’_

Steve was the worst part of the vision. The thought of his boyfriend, the man he loved, dying in his arms, _blaming_ him for it, was terrifying and immeasurably heavy, felt like a physical weight that Tony carried around sometimes. Steve would never blame him, he thought, if it came down to it. Steve wouldn’t put that on Tony, would he?

After all, he’d said “Together,” all those months ago, agreed to shoulder the burden, the responsibility of the world and everything that came with it.

“We’ll lose,” Tony had replied, because he _knew_ , had felt, and seen the cost of their failure, knew the inevitability of it.

“Then we’ll do that together too,” Steve had assured him, his voice full of quiet resolve, and conviction, and that only made it hurt all the more.

Thinking about it all now just made Tony more miserable, made that sinking feeling in his chest run deeper, so deep he could feel it down to his toes. He found himself opening the door to the gym quietly, like a child trying to avoid being caught, even though it was just him and Steve, and the blond was his partner, his confidant.

Steve was in the middle of abusing his punching bag, the one Tony had designed with self-repairing microfibers that dampened the blows of Steve’s punches, let the bag last a lot longer than a standard one. Steve had been through a few of these already, and it was kind of fun, tweaking the pattern, trying to strengthen the fibers each time. It was a game, really. Steve kept trying to outdo each new bag, and Tony kept trying to create one that even Steve couldn’t destroy without hurting himself.

He was punching hard, and had been going for a while, if the little grunts of effort he let out were any indication. Tony could see the sweat glistening on his forearms from here, didn’t need to see Steve’s face to know his brows were pinched in concentration, the blue of his eyes sharp and vivid, like it always was during the heat of battle.

Tony took a breath to steady himself, flexed his fingers anxiously as he stepped closer to Steve. He was sure the soldier had noticed him come in; Steve was extremely perceptive, of course, but he always gave Tony the chance to announce himself.

It took a second to get his voice working. “Hey Steve?”

Steve stopped punching the bag, which was probably close to breaking, and brought an arm up to wipe his brow. “Yeah?” he asked, turning to look at the brunet.

Tony didn’t know quite what to say. He found himself shrinking his posture a little, his heart beating anxiously. “I…Can—can we talk?”

The concern was instantly visible on Steve’s face, and he nodded. “Of course. What’s going on?”

“N-nothing, I just…” Tony dropped his eyes, felt the fear and shame bubble up again, like it did every time he thought about breaching this subject.

Steve looked him over, took in the redness on his cheeks, his guarded posture. “You’ve been crying,” he said softly, gently brought up a hand and brushed his thumb over Tony’s cheek.

It was amazing, sometimes, the juxtaposition of Steve’s strength, how he could beat things into pulp with his bare hands, and at the same time make his touch soft, delicate, like handling fine china.

Tony couldn’t help but push into it a little. He exhaled softly. “I…yeah. I just—I kind of freaked out in the workshop,” he admitted.

“Let’s go sit down,” Steve suggested, gesturing to the luxurious bench at the side of the gym. He had a bottle of water and towel waiting over there already for when his workout ended, which was apparently now.

Tony nodded in agreement, and moved across the room. He shoved his hands on his lap when he sat down, tried to stop himself from drumming his fingers.

Steve settled at his side, took a long chug of water and dabbed himself with his towel.

“So,” he started. “You gonna tell me what’s bothering you, sweetheart?”

Tony made a noncommittal noise, looked down at his feet. “There’s…” he sighed. “There’s something I’ve gotta tell you. It’s been bothering me for a long time.”

Steve’s face twisted into a barely-hidden grimace. What could Tony have to tell him? Was it something horrible, something about their relationship, about the way things had been lately? For a second, he felt kind of afraid, wondered if he’d done something wrong, if they’d reached a breaking point, and if Tony was about to send him packing, so to speak, if he was going to say ‘this is it,’ and close the book on their relationship. He knew things weren’t exactly peachy keen right now, and they argued a lot more than he wanted, but damn, if things were about to change like that, Steve sure as hell wasn’t ready for it. He tried not to get ahead of himself, tried to keep his brain from thinking of the worst.

He stayed silent, and waited for Tony to say more.

The brunet pursed his lips. He had to just come out with it, couldn’t dance around it anymore after all this time. He was still feeling on edge, from what had happened down in the workshop, and with the state of things in general, and he could feel the emotion bubbling up again. He tried to shove it all down, tried to speak clearly.

“The day we got the Scepter, from Strucker’s Lab, I…I uh, saw something,” he started.

“Go on,” Steve prodded softly.

“I had this-this vision, of the future. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“A vision?”

“Yeah. It…I saw it, Steve. I saw what’s coming, how crazy it is, how unstoppable, and I saw the consequences of our, of _my_ failure. I saw the end of all of this, and honey, it wasn’t pretty.”

Steve tried to absorb that. Tony’s voice was serious, maybe a little wavering, and his hands were scratching lines into the fabric of his jeans, betraying his anxiety.

They’d all had visions, back then, thanks to Wanda, before she came to realize her mistakes and joined the right side. They were just unpleasant nightmares, designed to throw them off guard, and nothing more, Steve was sure. Tony didn’t seem to see it that way though. To him it meant a whole lot more apparently, if it had affected him strongly enough to be bothering him almost a year later.

The blond pulled Tony’s hand into his own, gave it a little squeeze. “None of that was real, Tony. It was just—“

“You don’t understand,” Tony insisted, shaking his head. His words were spoken faster and faster, his eyes wide and breath shaky. “I know we all saw something. I know that. The thing is, this…this felt different, this felt like a warning, the calculated destination of my current path, and I knew I had to change it. I _tried_ to change it. I tried to create Ultron. But that was a goddamn bust, wasn’t it? And things keep getting worse now, and we’re no closer to being safer, and I know that no matter how hard I try, how many things I do, we’re still on that collision course and—and I just—“

It was hard to breathe.

“Woah, hey, calm down, honey,” Steve said, holding his hand a little tighter. Tony’s fingered tightened in return, but the look on his face, the quick, shaky breaths made him nervous. “You’re alright, I promise. It wasn’t real, it was just like a nightmare, and it was so long ago. Come on, breathe for me.”

Tony shook his head between quick breaths, his brows knit. “You don’t—you don’t get it, Steve. I saw—I saw you all dead,” he said. “All of you. You were all dead, and…and it was my fault. You told me I didn’t do enough, that I could have saved you!”

Steve didn’t know what to say to that for a moment. The agony in Tony’s dark eyes, the words he’d spoken…It was clear that he couldn’t forget his vision, couldn’t move on from it like the others had. To be fair, Steve’s own vision was a little less…disturbing, and more thought provoking. Tony apparently hadn’t been afforded that luxury, and instead was given a worst case scenario of their lives, which was something bound to haunt him, as it quite obviously was.

It hurt, knowing that Steve in particular was the crux of this vision, that he’d blamed Tony for their failure, even if it was just a figment of the imagination. Steve had blamed him for Ultron, initially, until he understood the truth of his creation, but openly blaming Tony for their deaths? That would be something he could never do. It seemed Tony had forgotten that.

“Tony—“

“You looked so upset. You sounded so…so hurt, so disappointed. You died in my arms, and then the army—the invasion, it went through the wormhole and—“

“ _Tony_ , honey, listen to me: It wasn’t real. That’s not the future. It didn’t happen, and I’m right here, I’m _right here_ and I’d never say something like that to you,” Steve said, bringing up his free hand to cup Tony’s cheek.

“You wouldn’t?” Tony asked, and the fact that he had asked at all hurt a little bit, but Steve didn’t want to dwell on it. Tony needed reassurance now, and Steve was going to give it to him.

“I wouldn’t. Even if the world was falling apart, I wouldn’t. I love you. Whatever you saw in that vision, whatever you felt, it was designed to scare you. Nothing like that will happen,” the blond assured him.

Tony wasn’t entirely convinced. “It’s easy for you to say,” he replied. “You don’t know what it was like. It felt so real, Steve. I can still see it, sometimes, can hear it, can feel it. I know it was a warning, I know something’s coming, and I have to stop it.”

“Is that why you’ve been so out of sorts?” Steve asked. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you overworking yourself, or losing sleep for that matter.”

He hadn’t mentioned it because he knew Tony would most likely throw a fit about it, try to keep Steve off of his trail so to speak, and more arguing was the last thing they needed lately. Hell, there was a pretty serious argument only a day ago, and Steve wasn’t keen on reliving it anytime soon.

“One of many, _many_ reasons,” Tony replied with a breath of defeated laughter. “Every moment I waste could be the difference between success and failure. I’ve been trying, so damn hard, to make sure we’re ready, but it never seems to be enough.”

Steve frowned a little at how upset Tony sounded, the unhappy slump of his shoulders. The bags under his eyes seemed to stand out that much more at the moment, made him seem ghostly, haunted. “Did you ever consider you don’t have to do this alone?” he asked softly.

Tony didn’t have an answer for that. He lifted his eyes though, looked at Steve.

“You don’t have to fix everything yourself. You have a team, Tony. You have me.” Steve’s expression was serious, earnest. Even if he didn’t quite believe that what Tony experienced was more than a nightmare like the rest of them were given, he understood the possibility of things going south in the world, knew that there may come a time when teamwork was even more vital than with what had happened in Sokovia.

The scientist tried to take his words to heart, to be calmed by them, but it was difficult. How could he explain to Steve the responsibility he bore? How could he explain that it would come down to him, that it was he who would have to pull the final switch, that it was he that would bear the burden of their mistakes? How could he explain that he’d thought about this long before New York, long before they had ever met? There were things Tony dreaded, and things he knew he couldn’t run from, and didn’t necessarily _want_ to run from, but they were nevertheless difficult to explain, to share, especially when his vision told him it would fall to him alone to handle it all.

Steve just didn’t know, didn’t understand, and Tony wasn’t sure he could make him fully understand. It was more than a little frustrating. He wasn’t exactly a communication aficionado, but being unable to express even a fraction of it all, when he so desperately wanted to, really, really sucked.

“I know I have you,” Tony replied, and joined both their hands. He looked into Steve’s eyes, tried to express the gravity of his concern. “I know. And I know you’ll face everything, no matter how bad, but…But what’s if it’s not enough, Steve? What if we reach that point where even you can’t stop the bad?”

“It won’t come to that,” the soldier insisted. “I know you’re afraid of that, and you have a right to be. It’s okay to be afraid, but you can’t…you can’t let it control you, especially so long after the fact. Ultron is in the past, and that vision was just a trick. We’ve handled everything life has thrown at us, every threat, and we’ll keep on handling it.”

Tony sighed. “I just can’t see it that way. I can’t _rest_. I’m—I’m on edge, all the time, always trying to watch our backs, to make sure nothing slips through the cracks. I’m making new stuff, and I’m testing and upgrading and trying to improve, but it just…”

“It’s enough,” Steve replied. “It’s enough, sweetheart. You’re overworking yourself. You can depend on us, working together. If something really happens, we’ll handle it. I said we’d face it together, and we will.”

“How can you be sure?” Tony said, letting out a frustrated sigh. “How can you be sure it’s enough?”

Steve considered that, took a second to gather his thoughts. He exhaled softly through his nose. “I won’t lie to you. There _isn’t_ a way to be sure. Life isn’t math, Tony. There’s no formula, no numbers, no guidelines. It’s fucking up and trying your hardest and improvising, and you can try to plan, but that plan won’t always work. It’s faith that keeps us going at the end of the day, and I have faith in us.” He leaned forward, pressed their foreheads together.

“I’ve got faith in _you_.”

Tony’s heart clenched at that. He could feel a tide of emotion rising, and shut his eyes tight, leaned into Steve’s touch. “I…I don’t know if I can live up to it.”

“You can,” Steve replied. “Just keep trying. That’s all anyone asks.”

The brunet didn’t know if he believed that completely, but it would do for now. He let out a little sigh, leaned forward further to tuck himself against Steve’s shoulder.

Steve let go of his hand, wrapped it around him instead.

“I get scared too, you know,” he said. “There’s times when I think it’s all impossible, that I’m doing everything wrong and I’ll never do anything right. Sometimes I just wanna rip myself to shreds, because I feel like it’d be easier than dealing with everything. You just…you just have to learn to live with it,” the blond sighed.

Tony considered that. He wasn’t surprised that Steve felt some of what he did too. Steve had a hell of a bigger title to contend with than Tony did, a public perception and identity to uphold. He’d been frustrated lately too, which was how they ended up here in the gym.

It was still hard to share the responsibility though, to believe they truly were capable of handling what was coming for them. Maybe it was a concern for another day. Maybe there really was no way to see it coming, and Tony just had to let faith show him the way.

“Sometimes…I wish we were other people,” Tony admitted, slipping his arms around Steve’s waist in a firm hug. “I wish I was some low-income engineering intern and you were just a normal soldier, or artist, or—or teacher or something, and that our biggest concerns would be arguing over the TV remote or thermostat instead of how to save people’s lives.”

Steve scoffed in amusement. “Me too,” he replied, and he sounded tired in a way that had nothing to do with physicality. “It’d make everything so much easier.”

That line of thinking was kind of sad, though. They didn’t have lives like that. They were Avengers, and it was their responsibility to live up to their titles, no matter how difficult it got. Maybe it wasn’t fair, and maybe there were days when it felt more like a burden than a privilege, but that was their lot in life.

“Let’s do it,” Tony replied. “Let’s just disappear, fake our deaths and start over somewhere,” he joked. “You’ll sell caricatures on the boardwalk and I’ll fix the rides when they break down. We’ll live in a box on the beach and eat cheap takeout every day.”

“Coney Island?” the blond asked, smiling a little.

The scientist shrugged. “I was thinking Santa Monica, but it’s your call.”

“California does sound nice.”

“Honey, you’d love it,” Tony said, looking up at him. “Sunshine, fresh air, food trucks, self-important bastards on every corner, and more cutesy open air markets than you can count.”

The soldier scoffed. “Glad to hear it. Right now, I’d rather visit our shower, though.”

“Good idea,” Tony replied, wrinkling his nose. “You do kind of smell. If I’d have been less emotionally distraught, I wouldn’t be touching you right now.”

“Gee, thanks,” Steve sighed, shaking his head.

“You’re all sweaty too. This shirt is practically _soaked_. I’m gonna have to double wash my clothes, and quadruple wash yours.”

“Hey now,” Steve warned playfully.

Tony patted his side. “I’m still here, aren’t I? Just let me complain a little, sweetheart.”

“You complain enough. Could fill a twelve-part book series with all of your complaints.”

“That may be true,” Tony agreed. “But that’s what you signed up for when you asked me to date you.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Steve replied, and Tony hummed in affirmation.

There was a moment of silence, tired but comfortable, between them, with Tony looking down at the floor, and Steve rubbing his shoulder. It was nice to just sit, sometimes, to just exist with each other. They didn’t seem to get that chance much anymore.

“Do you feel better at least?” Steve asked after a moment, pulling back his arm. “Do you think you can forget about the vision?”

Tony pursed his lips, thought about it. He grimaced. “I can’t make any promises. I don’t think I could ever forget. But…but maybe I can stop letting it control me so much. Maybe I can—I don’t know. Tune it out or something.”

“I’m glad you told me about it,” the blond replied. “But...why did you wait so long?” If this issue had truly been plaguing Tony for nine months now, Steve felt a little hurt that it had taken Tony so long to share it with him. Maybe Steve could have comforted him a long time ago. Maybe a few arguments along the way could have been avoided.

“I…I was ashamed,” Tony said after a second. “I thought you’d, I don’t know, call me crazy or something. Maybe I _am_ crazy and you’re just too nice to say it. I don’t know. It always just… felt like something I had to keep to myself.”

“Baby you don’t need to hide things like that from me. I hear you lying awake at night, trying to sleep and failing, but being too stubborn to wake me up to keep you company. I can see how it makes you tense, how it messes with you, and—and I know there’s things I keep to myself too, always have, but we can’t let it get between us,” Steve said.

“I know,” Tony replied. “I know. I just…it’s tough.”

“It is,” Steve agreed, didn’t even try to pretend otherwise.

“Too tough for us to handle?” the brunet asked, brows knit, eyes pleading. He wondered, sometimes. He wondered if they could survive all of it, all of the problems and obstacles and threats, if their relationship could. They’d been together over two years now, but the fear never abated. What’s if their love couldn’t outlast it all? What’s if they were better off apart?

Steve wondered that too, sometimes, especially lately, but knew that they weren’t. He knew that they were better together, even with the arguments, with the stress and the anger and even the distance worming its way between them on occasion, the culmination of an ever-changing situation and growing unrest. He knew things were tough, and that they could be tougher, but they’d be worth sticking through, that he was sure of.

“Never,” Steve said, brushing a hand across Tony’s cheek. “We can handle it.”

Tony smiled a little, cupped Steve’s cheek in return. “Faith, right?” he asked.

“Faith,” Steve said with a nod, turning to kiss Tony’s hand. “No better ally. Besides you, of course.”

Tony loved that. It made him happy in the way that made him want to hide his face in Steve’s shoulder all over again. “Who taught you how to sweet talk anyways? You’re way too good at it.”

“My mom,” Steve replied, ducking his head and laughing in that shy way that made him seem so much more innocent than he actually was. “She always said kind words are the best investment.”

“Well thank god for Momma Rogers,” Tony murmured, leaning up and pressing a grateful kiss to Steve’s cheek.

Steve’s heart fluttered a little, and he couldn’t help but grin at that. He’d been in a kind of a rotten mood today too, so Tony coming to him, admitting all that he had, trusting Steve with his vulnerability, not only made Tony’s day better, but Steve’s too. “You got that right,” he said proudly, and held Tony closer.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave your thoughts in a comment! I love hearing from you guys <3


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